


you were made to suffer

by bossladyharley



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Insert, ardyn's still a villain here tho and that's what matters most, basically i loved episode ardyn but there's so much i want to fix and play with, will tag other characters as they become Super Relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossladyharley/pseuds/bossladyharley
Summary: With the Oracle dead and Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum gone, Eos bends to the will of the Starscourge, its citizens consigned to hordes of daemons and endless night. Fleeing from Accordo and the ruin of Altissia, a young woman survives as best she can in Lucis, humanity's last stronghold. As she tries to hide in plain sight her gift--radiant magic she does not fully understand or know why she possesses--she is unaware of the true evil that rules close by in Insomnia or that it has set its sights on her.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o! The first seven chapters or so of this fic, I wrote before Episode Ardyn came out. I was pleased to find that some things, I had gotten pretty right, go me! Other things, I'm probably going to either reference in a different way or bypass entirely, so don't expect this to be 100% canon compliant. There's actually a lot about Ardyn and the lore of FFXV that I want to delve in and explore, especially since I felt the game left us bereft in some ways.
> 
> So I hope that's your flavor! 
> 
> Please enjoy this and consider popping over to [my Tumblr](http://soartfullydone.tumblr.com/) or [my blog](https://wherethewordstakemeblog.wordpress.com/) if you have a minute. I talk about writing and books and other interests on there.

In the land of Eos lies a proud and beautiful Crown City, once a beacon of light, architecture, and technology. 

Once.

Now it lies in ruins, its streets cluttered with the debris of fallen buildings and abandoned vehicles, some streets being inaccessible altogether with no way to clear the rubble. Where people once strolled to their favorite shops, bars, and restaurants, there is instead a barren silence of loss and abandonment.

In the midst of this silence, though, are the daemons and Magitek troopers that still patrol the streets, all under the cover of eternal night.

Only the king's palace, the Citadel, remains unscathed, rising tall over this metropolis of darkness and nightmares.

Inside is the throne, but it is not a throne of blackest obsidian as it first appears. Though the throne should shine as golden and radiant as the Lucis Caelum bloodline, no sunrays stream into this room to illuminate it, for there is no more light beyond the cold and artificial. The throne, too, does not sit vacant like so many assume, and it has not done so since the Starscourge ravaged the land.

Upon this throne sits a man who has not been a man for millennia. Though he appears human with the lines and scruff on his face that hint at middle age, with his disheveled hair of plum red, with his pale skin mostly hidden by an assortment of man-made clothes, he is not anything close to human, and no longer pretends to be.

Upon his head sits, not a crown, but a rakish hat pulled lower over his eyes, which are closed. He appears, for all intents and purposes, asleep, his head resting upon his fist, elbow braced on the arm of his throne, legs crossed loosely as if he has all the time in the world. 

He does. But he is not asleep.

Without clear reason, his trickster's lips pull into a smirk, and he chuckles, the sound trapping itself in his throat. When he opens his eyes, they are human. Vivid amber once the light hits them, but there is no light, not right now. Instead, they're a deep russet brown in the shadows.

"Oh, dear. Again?" He speaks with a human voice, the words lilting and unfailingly, condescendingly polite. They vibrate off the walls, echoing into the chasm of the hall. Sitting straighter in his throne, his arm dropping, the man-who-is-not-a-man shakes his head and sighs. "When will you ever learn?"

No one answers him. He doesn't expect anyone to.

But still, he keeps his gaze focused on that same spot, not seeing the palace before him, no longer even seeing the empty streets of his empty kingdom, but beyond, so far beyond.

Across time and space and a churning, black sea.


	2. A New World Order

Thick inside the Cleigne region, a lone daemon hunter crouched behind a rock, sizing up her prey. 

Two Black Flans and a Lich, the latter’s long robes trailing silently across the grass as an orb of sickly green light bobbed around it. Not a single one of them aware of her presence. 

Which was good. It wouldn't do for her to get overwhelmed because their blood-chilling cries drew other daemons to her presence. All of Eos was crawling with daemons ever since darkness blotted out the sun. That had been close to a year ago. 

Using her flashlight, Melody Solariis glanced at her watch, the light causing the crystals encircling the white face to gleam and the mint green band to appear richer in color than it actually was. Bright and feminine, the watch looked out of place amongst her ensemble of black clothes and sharp weapons, but it was the one thing she’d kept from her old life in Accordo. The one thing she never took off. She wondered why she still checked time with it, though. Currently, it read ten minutes past three o'clock PM, and while the time was accurate, it didn't change the fact that it was pitch dark out here.

Just one more area to search, then she could finish off these daemons and hoof it to her truck. 

She just hoped it would still be there waiting for her in one piece. 

Stealthily, she crouch-walked around the rock, making sure her footfalls didn't crunch beneath the grass or snap something louder. She kept an eye on the daemons in case they still somehow became alerted to her presence. 

With what seemed to take forever but was only minutes, she skirted around them and finally made it to her destination. An abandoned hut amidst a series of hills. 

Melody searched it as quickly as she could, spotting a water canteen lying haphazardly on the ground and a few cigarette butts scattered here and there. The canteen was still close to full. This had been the place those hunters had gotten in over their heads, that's for sure. 

One of _many_ places.

It happened all the time now. Hunters left to deal with the daemons; not all of them came back. On this particular hunt, three had gone to kill an Iron Giant causing particular trouble near the road. It had proven too much for them, and they'd lost track of their surroundings in their panic to get away. And this little hut? It was the last place they had all been together and alive. 

One hunter had died for sure. One came back to deliver the news. As for the third?

Well, that's why she was here. 

Melody cleared the hut and started descending down the hills, keeping her flashlight on its lowest setting. It wasn't a good idea to travel these lands alone much less hunt, but she didn't have anyone else to count on. Didn't really want any tag-alongs either, though she did work with other hunters when the situation called for it. Overall, though, it was better just having herself to look after. No one dragging her down. 

And no one butting their nose in where it didn't belong and asking questions.

Her shoes slipped in the dewy grass, and she slid the rest of the way down the hill. A screech echoed to her from somewhere nearby, and she spotted a fiery Bomb weaving its merry little way through a copse of trees, thankfully not in her direction. 

She'd taken a few steps along the base of the hills when she heard a series of rasping whispers.

"Hel-help… some… some…one…someone… _please_." 

Melody quickened her pace, flashlight in one hand and canteen in the other. At last, her feeble light landed on a muddy boot, climbed up a leg, an arm, landed on the hunter's face, his blond beard speckled with dirt and black blood. 

"I'm here," she told him. "Everything's going to be okay."

"H….hel…please," he kept saying over and over, not moving, eyes staring off into space, barely getting the words out. Melody studied him closely. He was delirious, and while all his limbs seemed unbroken, she spotted a rip in his trousers, the ankle swollen and bloody underneath. She put the canteen to his lips, knowing he had to be dehydrated, but the water merely dribbled from his lips down his beard. 

He coughed suddenly, and through the spray of water was the unmistakable black mist of miasma.

_Shit._

She knew what was wrong now. 

And sure as hell no potion in the world could fix it. 

Shining the flashlight on his body confirmed it. The blackened veins on his neck, his left hand. The hunter was infected with the Starscourge. 

Soon, he would become a daemon they'd have to kill. 

_Not if I have anything to say about it._

"Sorry, bud," Melody said, drawing a dagger from her boot. "But I can't have you conscious for this."

Using the base of the dagger’s handle, she knocked him out with one hit, his body slumping further in the grass. Melody threw a surreptitious look over her shoulders, spying for daemons, other people, anyone who could witness what she was about to do. 

But there was no one, so with a shaky breath, she closed her eyes, dug deep, and prayed to her silent gods that this wouldn't be the one that finished her. 

* * *

Once she opened her eyes, she caught the faintest hint of pure white light lingering on her hands before it faded away. Her arms and legs felt leaden, like she'd run a marathon without stopping, and her head felt light and aching. Nausea bubbled up in her stomach, but she pushed it down, swigging water from her own canteen.

Standing, she looked at the man again. Throat and hands clean, his breath normal and clear of miasma. 

Thank Bahamut, her divine magic still worked, though it was clearly getting weaker, and _she_ was getting weaker trying to force it. 

She checked her watch again. Ten minutes had passed while she'd healed him. Shit. 

Standing, she administered a Phoenix Down on him, watching with impatience as his minor wounds vanished and his eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up. "What's—?"

"You're"—her mind jumped, trying to remember what the other hunter had called him—"Fat Belly, I presume?"

The man's face went a little pink under his beard, and as he stood, she could tell the nickname was an apt one. "Yeah?"

"I'm Mel. The Hunter Association sent me out here to find you. Mission accomplished. Let's go home."

She started the trek up the hill, and he wisely followed, his ankle no longer a problem. 

"They sent a little _girl_ to find me?" he said in disbelief.

Melody glared at him over her shoulder. "This little girl can leave you to find your own way back to Lestallum if you want, big boy."

_Not to mention kept your sorry ass from becoming a daemon._ Melody clenched her teeth to keep that admission from slipping. She didn't want _anyone_ knowing about that. 

And he seemed not to remember how close to damnation and extermination he had been, and that was fine with her. 

They crested the hill, and Melody was almost happy to find that the Flans and Lich were still right where she'd left them. Clearing them would give them a direct line toward the truck. She could still see it perched on the side of the road under a street lamp, right where she'd left it. 

She handed Fat Belly the extra canteen, not looking at him as she repined her flashlight to her shirt and drew her sword. "Sip your water, and stay out of my way."

Without waiting for a response, she dove into the fray. 

* * *

Lestallum greeted her like an old friend from school that she'd rather treasure all the memories about than ever see again.

It wasn't the city's fault. In fact, it used to be one of Melody's favorite places to visit in Lucis with its food, spirited energy, nightlife, and good, old-fashioned feminism. 

But that had been before it had become the place most prepared to handle refugees fleeing from the daemons. Now it was less of a tourist getaway and more of a fortress town, and all the people were just squeezed in. 

Like sardines in a thimble. 

It was nice to see how the community had come together to help each other, but the warm, fuzzy feeling did nothing to assuage how suffocated Melody felt whenever she tried to live here. 

She parked as close to the city's lights as she could, the parking lots around always clogged with cars. Fat Belly jumped out of the truck, and together they made their way towards Hunter HQ. 

"Hey, uh, Mel," he said, stopping her in her tracks. She looked at him with a blank face. "What I said back there, I…"

Her blank face held. He sighed. "It came out all wrong, and I didn't mean… What I mean to say is, thank you for what you did for me out there." His hands rose to his hips, and he stared at the ground before meeting her gaze. "I reckon I'd be daemon food by now if you hadn't come and gotten me out."

_You'd be so much worse than that._

Melody held his stare for a beat longer before shrugging, a humoring smile on her face. "You're welcome. And no problem, really. Just be a lot more careful next time." She eyed his beer gut before suggesting, "And maybe work on some endurance training a bit?"

Fat Belly laughed. "Thanks, but I think my hunting days are over. You crazy bastards make it look easy."

"No arguments there."

"Right, so I’ll leave it to the professionals from now on.” He punched a fist into his hand. “Still, wish I’d’a killed at least one of them things before I ‘retired,’ but I know when to call it quits. Anyway, there's plenty I can do just around the city to help out, so I guess I'll start there."

At last, her smile became genuine. "That's a good idea."

Melody dropped him off at Hunter HQ, collecting her payment while Fat Belly embraced his other ex-hunter friend, Big T, with a tearful hug. Melody saluted them both and headed over to Iris' place at the Leville hotel.

Iris Amicitia’s dark, cropped hair bounced above her shoulders as she gave Mel a onceover at the door. "Been a long day already?"

"It's been a long year. Can I use your shower?"

"You always know just what to say. But seriously, sometimes you sound just like my brother. Is it a hunter thing?" Iris peered at her before grinning and letting her in. 

"I wouldn't know. How's he doing, by the way?"

"Fine. Off with Ignis at the Hammerhead while Prompto's helping out here."

"Uh-huh," Melody said, her voice echoing inside the bathroom while she deposited her bag of supplies on the tile floor and started dropping clothes left and right. "And how is he really doing?"

Iris was silent for a moment. Melody heard the bed creak, the girl no doubt sitting upon it. "It's just… We all thought Noctis would be back by now. It's almost been a year since he..."

Since the would-be king of Lucis disappeared without a trace, taking much of the people's hope with him. 

But not Melody's. She didn't put much stock in kings, not even the so-called holy line of Lucis. In the end, they were just people like anyone else. Beating this darkness wasn't something that one person could do; it would take all of them. Melody knew that this, too, would pass, someday, and she would try her damnedest to survive long enough to see it. 

Still, it was hard hearing the ache in Iris' voice, hard to watch her heart break bit by bit. Insomnia had been devastated once Niflheim had invaded, and though Melody had only met and befriended Iris when the girl had first fled to Lestallum, she knew how much Iris had lost. 

What she kept losing and risking. 

"It'll be alright," Melody told Iris, pulling a clean change of clothes out of her pack. "Didn't you tell me Noctis was a little lazy? He's probably just taking his sweet time right now, but when he gets back, you can clobber him one good time for making everybody wait."

A small laugh came from Iris. "You know what the sad thing is? You're probably right."

Melody showered and changed, emerging from the bathroom with her long, brown hair still dripping wet. "Thanks so much, again. Don't ever check out of here, okay?"

"I don't understand why you just don't move in here with us. There's plenty of room. It's mostly just Dustin, Monica, Talcott, and me, with the boys coming and going."

Melody eyed the suite with its thick curtains draping the windows, the rich tapestries hanging on the walls, the lush carpet that was starting to see some wear from all the foot traffic, the plump queen sized beds, the cozy sofa. It did seem like a nice little place to hole up for a while. 

"Thanks, but I'm fine in my truck, promise," Melody said, making a face. "Besides, I don't really like kids."

Iris rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "You would like Talcott."

"I'll talk your word for it."

They exchanged goodbyes, both emphasizing to the other that if they ever needed anything to _please_ let them know. 

Melody wove through the alleys of Lestallum, past the people and shanty towns and food carts, and made it back out to her truck just in time. She'd barely leaned her seat back before she passed out, the exhaustion of the day—and her use of her dwindling magic—taking its toll. 

Her watch read 6:13 PM.

* * *

Gravel crunched under her boots as she walked down the wide expanse of gray concrete before her. The street was cracked and in some places utterly destroyed. A steel beam from a nearby skyscraper had fallen, one end buried deep in the asphalt, the other end lodged inside the fifth floor of an apartment complex. Glass and stone everywhere. Overturned cars. A caved-in subway entrance. Buildings missing half of their floors or demolished altogether. 

The city was a wreck, but she pressed on, making her slow, careful way past the obstacles in her path. 

But why? What business did she have here?

She found no other soul to speak to, no one to ask. When she got to the end of the street, she found that her progress was halted completely. An entire building had fallen across the street she traveled on, concrete, metal, and glass twisted and crumbled on top of each other in a towering heap. 

No way to move it or climb her way over, and no other way through. 

But she could not turn back, not now.

Why?

Instead, she swiveled, reassessing the area. 

There, at the end of the street and still mercifully intact, was a subway entrance. With any luck, the underground path would lead her past all this debris, and she could press on. 

With a bracing breath, she jogged toward the entrance, heart pounding with anticipation. 

Not much longer until she—

_WHACK!_

Melody jerked awake in her truck as something popped against her windshield. 

Of course, no sun greeted her. It was black as tar out there. Looking out her windows one by one, she couldn't spy anything wrong; her windshield wasn't cracked, and there were no daemons around. Probably just a stray rock or water bottle that got picked up by the wind. 

The hunter swiped a hand down her face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, waiting for her heart to stop racing. Not the best way to wake up, but it could've been _much_ worse. Besides, she was getting tired of the recurring dreams. 

Melody might like them more if they featured her home in Accordo. She hadn't been back since she'd sold her house along with most of her possessions to help pay for this monster-hunting gig. Some people might consider her decision a bad one, but it beat trying to compete for a cushy job in one of the few, clogged, sanctuary towns. Turnover rate was at an all-time low for those; meanwhile, the daemon-hunting business was booming.

Instead, her dreams lately seemed to focus on one place: the Crown City of Insomnia, and for the life of her, she didn't know why. She had been to visit once with her parents when they were still alive. They'd taken her when she'd turned sixteen, a decade ago, and while she'd enjoyed the trip, she didn't exactly miss the city. 

Whatever. Dreams only made sense in dreams, and she tended not to dwell on them. 

Melody checked her watch and cursed. She'd slept for over ten hours. 

Twisting in her seat, she rifled through the clothes she had strewn in the backseat, looking for something clean to change into. Let's see, she had a black t-shirt and black capris she could wear, or maybe that black t-shirt with those black jeans. Oh, and she had a gray tank top if she really wanted to be daring and add a splash of color. 

Honestly, she loved black as much as the next person. Slimming, matched everything, easy camouflage in the dark. But couldn't the hunters' shops try for a little more variety? There were some days she missed dressing like a civilian. 

With an ache of longing, Melody recalled the dresses she'd bought in Altissia after she'd finally saved up enough money to go shopping there. That elegant blue dress with the flowing sleeves and the billowing skirt. That sexy, dangerous red number with the tight bodice and tighter waist. Oh, it had hurt her to sell those, but she couldn't have brought them with her. Where would she even wear them now if she had them? Altissia? Leviathan had pretty much wiped the city off the map, and wasn't that a sobering thought while she pined for material things?

The Hydraean had taken the Oracle from them, too. No one would ever forget where they were and what they were doing when they'd heard Lady Lunafreya was incontrovertibly dead. Mel had been in Accordo, eating at a diner in town when the news came over the radio. There hadn't been a dry eye in the place. 

Now the one person who could hold back the dark and cure the people was gone. The one person who could've possibly told Melody why she possessed a sliver of divine magic without a hint of a bloodline of either Oracles or kings in her veins. Melody had no illusions about taking Lunafreya's place. If Lunafreya's magic had been a tide—powerful, assuring, and constant—then Melody's was a spark—weak, unreliable, and fleeting. And ever since the Starscourge had come, Melody could feel that magic being suppressed if not slowly vanishing altogether. 

Besides, Luna's reputation had been one of glowing regard, poise, and selflessness. People traveled from continents far and wide to see her, to be healed by her. If anyone came at Melody with that kind of adoration, hands reaching out to touch her, she knew she'd bolt. She wasn't a savior, not even close, and most important of all, she was no Oracle. 

And that suited her just fine. 

Better that no one knew she could heal, so they wouldn't expect too much. Better that she blessed any weapons she found with radiant magic and left them easy for hunters to find around Lucis, so no one would watch her too closely and wonder why all of hers were especially effective against daemons. Better that no one asked the impossible, so they wouldn't punish her later for failing to achieve it.

Melody changed clothes in her truck in rapid, practiced movements before strolling into the city, lightly armed with a sword across her back and a dagger in her boot. 

The marketplace was bustling as usual, vendors rushing to and fro to keep food and medical supplies stocked. More arms dealers could be found back here, too, but Melody wasn't here for those. 

Instead, she made her way to the merchant stalls, checking their wares one by one.

An arm suddenly slung itself around her shoulders while a chipper voice said, “Hey, Mel, what’s the frown for?”

“Hey, Prompto,” she said, trying to match the young man’s cheerfulness while still maintaining a grim façade. “They’re out of tomatoes again.”

“Ooh, that is a bummer.” Prompto Argentum released her, turning his attention to a young, brown-haired boy wearing cargo pants and a plaid shirt. “Talcott thinks so, too.”

Melody knew Talcott Hester only vaguely through Iris. She waited politely for the boy to join in on the conversation, but when he merely smiled shyly and nodded, she asked Prompto, “Want to come tomato-pickin’ with me?” 

Prompto winced, his blond hair shifting about his face as he moved from foot to foot. “Aw, Mel, I would but I can’t right now. I’m actually about to leave with a couple guys. Holly wants us to check on a pylon that’s been acting up. You’re welcome to come with if you want.”

“Thanks, but I want some tomatoes.”

Nodding wisely, Prompto said, “To each their own mission. Wait—you’re not going alone, are you?”

“Nah.” Yes.

 The blond sighed in relief. “Okay, good. That bad habit of yours really stresses me out, y’know?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, we gotta go,” Prompto told her. “C’mon, Talcott. Iris is waiting for you.”

“Okay!” Talcott said, waving to her. “Bye, miss!”

Melody raised a hand to wave at them both before returning to the matter at hand. She felt a little bad now for lying, but… Prompto wasn’t her keeper. She didn’t really have or want anyone worrying about her. Besides, there was a grove full of tomatoes close to Lestallum. She’d be there and back before the daemons even took notice, so there was no reason to drag someone with her when they could be doing something more exciting than food gathering. 

She walked up to the first merchant she saw, saying, “Hey, I’m going grocery shopping. Got an empty crate I can use? I’ll bring it back full of Lucian tomatoes if you do.”

* * *

Several merchants spared her crates, so she’d ended up with over half a dozen stacked in the bed of her truck. She didn’t leave immediately, shopping around Lestallum to restock on curatives, antidotes, and additional supplies. Finishing up a meat skewer, Melody hopped in her truck and drove two miles to where she remembered the vegetable grove was. She’d only need to take a few short trips into the valley and back, and then she could be back in Lestallum well before dinner time.

Unfortunately, she got a nasty shock when she tugged the first stack of crates toward her, for greeting her from behind them was a small, shy face with a please-don’t-be-mad look.

“Talcott!” she exclaimed, hardly believing her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, helping you get tomatoes, ma’am?”

Melody could pull her own hair out. _Iris, you were wrong. I do not like this kid._ “No, we’re going back. It’s too dangerous for you to be out here.” There weren’t any daemons around yet, but that could change at any second. She would _not_ be accountable for this kid.

Talcott jumped down from the bed of her truck, following her. “No, please. I can help! Besides, Prompto’s right. No one should go out by themselves, but I could tell you were going to despite what you told him, and I was right!”

Melody stopped, her hand on the handle of the door as she studied the boy. 

“Talcott, how old are you?” she said at last.

“Just turned eight, ma’am.”

The boy was eight, and he was both perceptive as hell and already came up to her shoulders? 

Fucking hell.

Life pissed on her once again.

“You really want to help?” she said, fixing him with a hard look. “There’s daemons out here. You know that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I won’t get in the way. I promise.” Talcott looked down at his shoes, hands in his pockets. “I’m not old enough to hunt, so I just want to do something useful for a change.”

Melody sighed. Shiva’s tits, he looked so damn tragic, and she’d lose so much time taking him back to Lestallum. She couldn’t leave him behind in the truck, either. What if he decided to wander off and something happened?

“Fine, but you have to promise me something.” The hunter settled the gravest look she could muster on the kid. “You do as I say when I say it. If I tell you to run, hide, or leave me behind, you don’t argue with me. You do it. And if something happens and we do get separated,”—she gestured him toward the truck, pointing through her window—“there’s a two-way radio in the dashboard. Hole yourself up in here and call for help. Someone from Lestallum will come get you. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And drop the ma’am.” Melody smiled to lighten the mood. “We’re technically hunting buddies now, so call me Mel, okay? And take this. It’ll make me feel better.” 

She handed him an extra flashlight and the dagger she kept in her boot, and he threaded the latter safely through his belt loop. To compensate, she strapped her bow and quiver set to her back and belted her sword to her waist. 

They got through two trips and six crates together, Melody carrying two crates at a time and keeping a watchful eye on the dark while Talcott managed one and stayed mercifully quiet. The kid was tactful and could read cues well, Melody would give him that. 

By the third trip, Melody was convinced they were being watched. Her arms pricked as she scanned the sloping plains in between the trees and boulders scattered around, all of them dark shadows blending into darker night, her visible perception minuscule beyond the reach of her flashlight. But there was nothing around, no daemons, wildlife, or people, and the trees didn't so much as rustle with a breeze. She knew she was being paranoid on Talcott’s behalf, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

"I'm not seeing a lot of red ones left, Mel," said Talcott, crouching among the tomato plants, his small light darting to and fro. “Should I pick some of the green ones, too?”

“Hmm, yeah, people like eating those. Just a few, though. We need to leave most of them to ripen—”

A burst of black and purple miasma rippled all around them, and ten Goblins emerged with out-of-sync screeches.

“Get back to the truck!” Melody ordered, dropping the crate and tossing the keys to Talcott. She spared enough of a glance to see Talcott take off running before she drew her bow.

A Goblin leapt for her, but she shot it out of the air with an arrow infused with radiant light. She killed four more Goblins just as quickly, moving so she kept them from surrounding her.

But the Goblins were quick, and soon she was littered with scratches across her arms, her face. One tried to climb onto her back, but she blasted it into nothing, her divine magic reacting to her panic. Another Goblin was caught in the crossfire, and it died with a shriek.

Using magic cost her, and soon she was breathing hard, fighting to keep up. When she ran out of arrows, she drew her sword, hacking and slashing until the last Goblin crumpled, dissolving into the miasma from whence it came.

Only to be replaced by two Wraiths and a Ronin.

_Fuck_.

Melody leapt back to avoid the Ronin’s quick draw, barely missing getting her stomach sliced open. But the Wraiths were drifting toward her fast. Any one of them she could handle on her own, but all three together?

She was dead, unless she ran.

Her back hit a tree, and she realized they had trapped her.

“When did you lot get so smart?” she asked, bringing her sword up.

The roar of an engine was the only warning she had before two blinding lights appeared over the hill to her right, her truck blazing a trail over the bumpy terrain. The daemons cried out with pain as the light hit them, the Wraiths immediately scattering.

The Ronin wasn’t so quick, and before Melody realized what had happened, her truck had slammed straight into it, miasma exploding at the point of impact. Melody watched, stunned, as her truck braked to a hard, jerky stop. She opened the driver's side door to reveal Talcott, hands gripped on the steering wheel, feet reaching the brake pedal while his head couldn't see over the hood.

"Did I get it?" he asked her, voice shaking. 

Melody's face split into a grin. "Kid, you didn't just get it. You wasted it!"

_Okay, Iris, I was wrong. I love this kid._

She surged into the driver's seat and put the truck in park as Talcott scrambled back into the passenger's seat. Spotting the Wraiths drifting closer again, Melody threw the truck into reverse, cutting the wheel to spin the truck one-hundred eighty degrees. Branches scraped against the paint, her windshield cracked to hell, but she paid no mind, focusing on getting them both out of there and back on the road. 

They made it in one piece, no airbags deployed, tires still inflated. Six out of seven crates of tomatoes wasn't that bad, either, considering.

"Talcott," Melody said sharply before laughing at the panicked look on his face. "That was amazing! You saved my ass back there."

"You're not mad?"

"No, I mean, yes! You could've gotten hurt! And what were you thinking, getting behind the wheel?"

"Grandpa used to let me drive his car up and down the driveway," the boy explained. "I figured I could maybe do it and just go a little bit faster?"

"Well, thank you, Grandpa." She smiled and ruffled Talcott's hair. "And thank _you,_ even though you scared me to death doing it." She propped her head up on her hand, arm braced against the door. "Oh, that could've been really bad. Please don’t ever do that again."

"I killed that daemon, though, right?” Talcott was practically bouncing in his seat, a big, cheesy grin on his face. "Does that mean I'm ready to be a hunter now?"

"Ha! Don't you know, kid? It takes at least ten years of training to become an expert in daemonic vehicular homicide.” She flicked his nose. “So don't get cocky. You've got a long way to go."

"Ten years is _way_ too long! What about when I get taller than you instead?"

"That's not hard to do, so no."

Talcott flopped back in his seat with a comedic frown, but a glance up at the windshield made it become genuine. "I'm sorry about wrecking your truck, though. I just didn't know what else to do."

Melody studied the damage. She spotted that the hood of the truck had a nice Ronin-sized dent in it, too. 

"Eh, don't worry about it too much." She grinned. "I know a good mechanic."


	3. Intra Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go!

Two weeks later, Melody consigned herself to a Hammerhead visit. Her truck desperately needed repairs, and she'd run out of reasons to put it off.

Hammerhead's lead mechanic, Cindy Aurum, inspected Mel’s truck with a raised eyebrow, her arms akimbo. "I swear, you go through cars like a rich boy runnin’ ‘round with his daddy's money. I ain't never seen the like."

"At least I didn't total it," Melody said, keeping Talcott's role in the whole thing a secret. With more seriousness, she asked, "It _isn't_ totaled, right?"

"Naw," Cindy said, rapping a knuckle against the hood. "I can fix it. Just gonna take a bit 'a time. We're real backed up right now."

"That's okay. I have nowhere in particular to be."

But Cindy kept studying the truck, a pensive purse to her lips. "Say, weren't you drivin' an old Fusion last I saw you?"

"Was that what it was? You know I don't know car models, Cind."

"Where'd you get this one?"

Melody settled for the simple answer. "I found it."

Cindy threw her a hard look. Many people mistook Cindy as being soft due to her short, wavy blonde hair and delicate, heart-shaped face, but Melody had learned not to be fooled. "Am I about to be workin' on a stolen truck?"

"Not exactly," Melody reasoned. "I found it by the side of the road near the chocobo tracks, keys tossed in the dirt. I waited for a good two hours for someone to come get it, and that's a _long_ time in Terra Daemonica. When no one did, I took it." She shrugged. "I've been needing a good truck. 'Sides, left the Fusion there, keys _in_ the ignition for a quick getaway in case someone needed it."

Cindy sighed. "Well, ain't heard 'a nobody reportin' it stolen, so I guess you're off the hook. _Again._ "

"Different rules when it's the apocalypse, Cind." Melody beamed and waved before making her way towards the diner. "And thanks!"

Melody went on a few hunts with the resident hunters, including Gladiolus, Iris' brother. She didn't know him particularly well, but the man seemed to be more introspective lately. When she told him, "Prompto told me to tell you hi," he got quiet. Almost broodingly so. Melody left it alone. She wasn't close to any members of the Crownsguard, but she did know from hearing Iris’ many accounts they used to be inseparable. With Noctis vanishing, everything had changed. 

Part of her wished she knew what had happened, but her sensible side firmly reminded her, "It doesn't concern you. Keep moving."

What did concern her was scoring a decent bed to sleep in and perhaps a fine hunter to share it with. This trip, she managed it, hitting it off with a man named Hector, all smoldering green eyes and arms that knew how to handle a broadsword.

They were living in fast times, uncertain times. Melody saw no sense in waiting around and hopefully not die before she got what she wanted. She saw even less sense in enduring a dry spell on top of Armageddon.

Only so much for one person to take.

* * *

The Citadel's two towers loomed above all other buildings in sight, glass gleaming an ominous black in the dark. Approaching it was like passing through the gates of death; once you were there, there would be no going back.

She didn't even hesitate.

Though the entrance stretched a forebodingly long distance, every nerve in her telling her to turn back, she kept jogging forward.

Up the dark front steps. Inside the atrium. Down the hall until she found an elevator.

She didn't question why the lights were on within the Citadel, why the elevator still worked. For some reason, that didn't matter.

Out the elevator. Down the winding halls and into…

The Throne Room.

Light from the wall lamps illuminated the high throne rising above the room. Beyond a set of stairs, the black throne was inlaid with gold filigree and a back of red velvet. A wall of gleaming gold metalwork surrounded it, the color subtle instead of gaudy, only shining where the light reflected off its surface.

Her breath caught at the sight. She placed her foot on the first step, wanting to approach that glorious seat of noble kings, to pay her respects.

A hand seized her wrist, and before she could turn to look, a deep voice said in a deceptively dangerous lilt, "There you are, my—"

A snore ripped violently through the camper, and Melody's eyes snapped open, only to glare at Hector's still-sleeping form, sawing enough logs to build a small city. 

Which meant she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

Throwing his arm off her, she rose and attended to her normal morning routine to make herself presentable. All the while, her latest dream nudged and prodded her, but the more she tried to remember it, the hazier it became. At last, she considered. Should she just _go_ to Insomnia and check the place out? Would the dreams stop then? 

She was willing to try. Anything to get a good, dreamless night's sleep for once.

Melody shut the door of the camper behind her, stretched, then waltzed over to the diner. Takka's Pit Stop was gradually being converted into a hunter stronghold. Many of the booths had been removed to make room for crates of weapons, medical supplies, and a few sleeping cots. But the bar was still operable, and Takka himself manned the counter, still taking food orders and providing information when he could.

"Oh, didn't see you there!" Takka said, startled at the sight of her leaning against the bar. "What can I get you?"

"Sorry to bother you," said Melody as casually as possible, "but I was wondering if you could tell me the best way to get to Insomnia from here."

"Insomnia?" His brow furrowed. "Why on earth would you want to go there?"

"Just trying to stay prepared. You never know what can happen, and Lucis isn't exactly the most secure right now, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," Takka sighed. "Normally, you'd just take the bridge in, but we haven't managed to clear all the vehicles yet."

"What'd'ya mean?"

Takka leaned on the counter, looking much older than his forty years. "When Insomnia was seized, a lotta people evacuated the city into Lucis, but the Nifs put up a blockade on this end, and a lotta folk didn't make it out. We thought now that the Empire is largely no more that we'd start seeing some people fleeing from the daemons, but no one that was still in the city has been seen since." Takka straightened, eyes boring into the counter. "Nothing left but empty cars." 

"Damn," she muttered. "I didn't even consider that."

"Anyway," Takka said, changing the subject, "you might make it a mile driving past the blockade, but after that, you'd have to walk the rest of the way, and I don't recommend it." 

No, that definitely wouldn't work. Too many daemons along miles and miles of vehicle-clogged, narrow bridge surrounded by water. She'd have a death wish going that way.

"The only other way I could recommend is by boat," Takka went on, "but you'd have to leave out of Galdin Quay, what's left of it."

And for that, she'd need to find someone with a boat. 

"I gotcha. Thanks for the help, anyway, Takka."

It took Melody the better part of a week to locate anyone with a boat much less a person crazy enough to take her to Insomnia. In that time, she'd discovered that the topic of the Crown City was a dangerously touchy subject for most people, the worst experience coming from Gladio.

"You've got no damn business being there," he'd told her fiercely, like she was a misbehaving child.

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I let a stranger tell me my business," she said coolly.

Cognac brown eyes flashing, Gladio grit his teeth and flexed his large hands into fists. "Look, just take it from me. Even going to the city with back-up is a death sentence. The daemons there are on a whole other level."

"I hear you, I hear you.” Melody waved him off. “Sorry I asked, sheesh." 

Gladio watched her very closely over the next few days, suspicious and rightly so. But he couldn't just hang around Hammerhead, and Melody didn't want or need a permission slip from him. Still, she was more discreet, and she soon found a man named Benjamin who could sail her to Insomnia.

"For a price," Benjamin said, his skin tanned and pockmarked from the sun, white whiskers beginning to grow in amidst his brown beard. His head was bald save for the baseball cap he wore, and his clothes implied he was still more of a fisherman than a hunter. 

"How much?"

"For a journey like this, one hundred big ones." 

One-hundred thousand gil. A steep price, but she was asking for a steep risk, and right now she had more than enough to cover the expense. Who could say things would stay that way if she waited? 

"Fine, but you'll get half now and half upon delivery." 

"Seventy now," he argued, blue eyes never flinching, "and that's my final offer."

Good enough for her. They shook on it.

The next morning, she found herself stepping out of her repaired truck, staring out at the once luxurious pier of Galdin Quay. Daemons roamed the beach, the hillsides, so many everywhere she looked. She hurried down the pier, hoping her truck would stay safe until she got back. She'd parked next to Ben's as there was strength in solidarity. 

The bar and luxury suites were almost too sad to look at, having been broken into and stripped by looters and squatters so many months ago. Glass littered the floor, doors hung off their hinges, and chairs were overturned, the upholstery ripped and gutted. She didn’t need to look behind the bar to know that the alcohol was long gone by those who desired its fleeting comforts. Regrettable. She could've used an amaretto sour right about now.

A daemonic screech ripped near the building, coming from the beach and inspiring her to quicken her pace.

Strike that. She needed something stiffer. 

There were no more lights on at the pier, so she mostly felt her way down the stairs using the handrail, relieved to see Ben's flashlight blinking towards her as he finished prepping his motorboat.

"You came prepared, I see," he said in his gravelly voice, nodding toward her, or more accurately the weapons she carried. Daggers in her boots and inside her knee-length coat. Sword and satchel of curatives at her side. Bow and arrows between her shoulder blades. 

"I overpack sometimes," Melody quipped as she paid him what she owed then boarded.

Ben untied the last rope and stepped on after her. "A good thing in this case." 

He started up the motor, and they were gone in minutes. He let her watch him captain the boat, and soon he was showing her how things worked to pass the time. Several compasses and maps were spread along the dash, a necessary measure now that there were no stars to guide sailors at night.

Melody noticed he'd brought his own sword and several firearms. "You've been wanting to go back, too."

"Just needed an excuse," Ben confirmed. He adjusted their course slightly, turning the wheel clockwise.

"You from Insomnia?"

"I grew up there," he replied. "Moved out to the country with my wife, Astrals rest her soul, about seven years ago. We both fell in love with the simple life. But my son and his boyfriend still lived in the city when…"

When Niflheim had come. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"I been makin' my peace with it," Ben said, voice gruff in a way that had nothing to do with the sea salt in the air. "But I just… I need to see it."

Melody nodded. "I understand."

"You had family in the city?"

Not a soul. But wanting to maintain the air of camaraderie, she said, "I'm the same. I need to see it, too."

A few hours later, the outer wall loomed on their starboard side, the city as dark and gloomy as all the rest. Guided by the blue navigation lights at the bow, Benjamin followed the bridge in, drifting the boat to a stop once the street grew level with the water. 

All was quiet as they stepped onto Insomnian soil. A few street lights still flickered on and off.

Melody paid him the rest, as agreed, and she asked, "Want to stick together?" 

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather do this alone.” Ben checked the strap of his sword, but it was the shotgun he chose to load and cradle in the crook of his arm. “You're a hunter, so I feel I can count on you to not get in over your head."

"And what about you?"

"I can handle it. I won't be lingerin'." He pointed towards a side street, a restaurant on the corner with its windows busted out and a dead, neon sign ripped halfway off. "Just a few blocks from here is where Lucas lived. I should be back within an hour."

That's all the time she cared to take here, too. "Okay, I'll meet back with you then. Stay safe."

He nodded and started off. Melody watched him go then took her own path, heading towards the city's center.

Insomnia looked exactly as her dreams had unveiled it, with a minor difference. Magitek troopers patrolled the streets, and she played a dangerous cat-and-mouse game to avoid them, ducking down side streets and skirting around their routes as they passed.

It wasn't long before she ran into her first daemon, too, a monstrously huge Iseultalon, its jaws opening to roar and power up its deadly laser attack.

"Yeeeeah, no," Melody said and took off at a sprint.

The ground erupted where she'd been standing, the behemoth's red laser beam cutting through the concrete like butter. Melody didn't stop to look back, darting down an alley too narrow for the beast to pursue. In doing so, she drew the attention of two Nagarani whose ghoulish female heads hissed at her, their serpentine bodies lurking between the buildings, rearing back to strike. 

Daggers were in her hands in a snap and she kept low, weaving a path towards the first and slicing a long horizontal cut along its exposed underbelly. The thing screeched but didn't retreat, slashing at her with its tail. Melody ducked, barely avoiding it, and hurled a dagger at the second Nagarani as she ran past. 

It connected, but she was acutely aware that all she'd done was piss them off, radiant magic or no. 

Fine with her. She wasn't here to hunt daemons. Just get in and then get right back out.

She left the alley behind as quickly as possible and tried to remember the details of her dreams.

_Beautiful subway station, where, oh, where could you be?_  

She found it a few minutes later, avoiding another behemoth in the process. Lights were still on in the tunnels, the white walls almost blindingly bright compared to the darkness she left outside. Leaning against a wall, Melody caught her breath and drank some water out of her canteen. Already, she could hear the mechanical stomp of Magitek troopers echoing down the tunnels. She wasn't out of danger yet, not by a long shot.

Before she dove back into the fray, she thought about what she was doing, what could possibly be waiting for her at the Citadel.

_Probably nothing, and I'm going to look very foolish and be out 100,000 gil_ , she told herself.

But maybe…

Maybe not. Maybe there was something there, something that could help her, could help all of them. 

An idea bloomed, fragile but full of hope.

Could Prince Noctis be there? Was this maybe where he'd vanished to?

If that was the case, future king or no, she'd kick his ass for making his friends wait. For making them all wait.

When a trooper rounded the corner, she attacked with renewed vigor in her step, dagger cleaving its head off before it could blink.

Gunshots fired in her direction. She answered the challenge with military-grade arrows.

Ten minutes later, she limped from the subway, swigging a potion from her satchel and wincing as she felt the bullets exit her shoulder and thigh wounds, her skin knitting itself back together. The pain of her injuries vanished along with it, there and gone so quickly it was easy to forget the damage had ever occurred.

The sight of the Citadel before her was its own balm, and she picked up her pace, jogging all the way, her palms slamming open the front gates. She ran the long stretch of driveway, her footsteps pounding over the monument to King Regis before she registered what it was. Her apologetic wince soon morphed into a sigh of satisfaction as the steps leading to the skyscraper’s entryway rose before her.

"I finally made it, _thank_ Bahamut," Melody said, slowing to a stop and checking her watch.

"Oh, I wouldn't be thanking the Draconian yet, my dear."

* * *

Melody hadn't glimpsed a soul standing on the steps of the Citadel before looking down at her watch. She hadn't seen another person in Insomnia besides the company she’d brought with her, but suddenly here was this man.

And his voice—she had heard that lilt before.

Even if she'd never seen him, a cord of familiarity was plucked inside her the same time a voice whispered to _run_.

Though she wasn't sure why. He appeared outlandish rather than threatening. Indeed, the man's sense of fashion was perhaps slightly more of an anomaly than his presence in an abandoned city.

A black trench coat billowed around his boots as he walked slowly down the steps, the upper half of the coat sporting patterns of black along the inner line of his torso and light gray around his shoulders and upper arms. His green pants with light blue and gray pinstripes appeared almost black and gray in the dark. A layered suit vest—the top layer being navy blue, gray, and burgundy while the bottom was a striped green and light blue to match his pants—was secured over a white, high-collared, pleated shirt. A red and orange cravat rested at his throat below the collar, and a dark gray hooded mantle with a white-flower print perched atop his coat, the two ends of the mantle trailing behind him. The finishing touch was a black fedora hat resting upon the unruly locks of his plum red hair.

"Melody dear. How lovely to finally meet you face to face," the man said, maintaining eye contact with her, his tone airy and unfailingly polite. Her pulse quickened, fear flooding her at the sound of her name on a stranger's lips. 

He strolled to the base of the stairs, stopping a few short feet from her. "A shame that it took snatching the sun from the sky to bring you to my doorstep, but now I have a kingdom laid out before me to present you to." He waved his arm in a majestic arc, as if surrounding them was a glorious Crown City rather than a sad ruin of one.

The more he spoke, the more Melody realized she’d made a mistake. Noctis wasn't here, her dreams were folly, and if what this man said was true… _A shame that it took snatching the sun from the sky_.

“ _You’re_  the reason behind all this?” Her voice was flat to her ears but spoken with an undeniable edge. She wasn’t sure what emotion should take precedence at meeting the man who took credit for why the entire world was fucked, but right now, anger was winning with a strong lead. "Who the _hell_ are you, and how do you know me?"

The man clucked his tongue, smiling at the expression on her face. "Don't look so surprised. I've been watching you for quite some time, but my attentions have been turned elsewhere—until now, at least. I have some free time on my hands as I wait to officially take my place on the throne after so very long." His tone was wistful and still so cordial, but when it dipped into a slightly deeper register, Melody's hair stood on end. "I think now is as good a time as any to get acquainted."

With a broad hand wrapped in a black fingerless glove, the man reached for her.

Melody snatched herself back, fear and rage tangling within her, fueling her magic, and she pulled from somewhere _deep_. Without hesitation, she outstretched her arm and cast Holy Light.

She didn't need to know anything further. If this man wanted to consort with darkness and daemons, fine. He could die like them, too. 

Melody cried out in sudden pain. Her wrist was clasped in a bruising grip, her magic sputtering out, and the man towered over her, moving much faster than any human could have. Déjà vu struck her, a hand around her wrist in another time, another place, and now she remembered why that lilting voice was familiar despite never seeing him before _. There you are, my—_

Except this time nothing was going to wake her up, for this was not a dream. 

"Now, now, none of that," he lightly chastised her. "I haven't even gotten the chance to introduce myself."

"I don't care," snarled Melody. Then she lit him up.

Blinding white light surged into the air, the center where the man stood—if he was still there—too bright to look at directly. It was enough to kill most daemons on contact and heavily damage the stronger ones.

And it took everything Melody had to cast it.

She fell to her hands and knees gasping, her body shaking with bone-aching fatigue. An invisible knife stabbed into her forehead, pain ricocheting through her skull, and she felt like she would vomit. 

But it'd gotten his hand off of her.

The light slowly died down.

And the man still stood, head bowed while his hands brushed black matter off his coat.

Miasma.

"One healer tries to cure me. The other, to kill me." He laughed to himself, delighted. "Such curious things. But I appreciate your attempt a little more."

Melody stared and stared at him, seeing but still not believing. The daemon taint was clearly running its course through him—he claimed this darkness as his—and still he stood after a radiant attack, undamaged.

"What are you?" the hunter breathed.

"Why, I'm your king. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, at your service," he said, removing his hat and dipping into a regal bow. The action would have been polite if he hadn't also pronounced his name slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton.

The brim of Ardyn's hat brushed against Melody’s temple as he backhanded her.

The blow happened so hard, so fast that Melody barely registered the pain. She lay prone on the ground, dazed, with her head twisted at a sharp angle. 

"This sight is a tad bit familiar," Ardyn mused. "Though you're in much better shape than the Oracle was, and I do prefer the black. Oh my, did someone not drink enough of their potion?"

Melody's eyes fluttered, and she fought to stay conscious. Tried to nudge her hands into supporting her so she could rise up, but all they did was twitch by her head. Her body continued to ache, a needle-like sensation spreading throughout—a dangerous sign that she’d pushed her magic too far. Melody wouldn’t be able to listen to that inner voice screaming at her to run now, even though she wanted nothing more.

No, that wasn’t exactly true.

She wanted Ben to make it back to the boat. Hoped he would leave without her. Get reinforcements.

The last thing she remembered was Ardyn crouched down beside her, his voice drifting to her while she faded into the black.

"Yes, I think I'll keep you for a while, my dear. After all, who knows how long that darling prince is going to be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.
> 
> Btw, just wanted to take this time to say that if you're into what I'm doing and want to see more of my writing, me talking about writing, book talk, or general fandom things, feel free to check out [my tumblr](http://soartfullydone.tumblr.com/) or [my blog](https://wherethewordstakemeblog.wordpress.com/). 
> 
> I also _definitely_ have a playlist for Ardyn/this fic, so if you're ever interested, hmu!


	4. The Daemon

When Melody awoke, she was in a place she didn't know.  

The room was sleek and modern, a floor to ceiling window constituting one entire wall, giving her a breathtaking view of Insomnia.

Or it would have been, if the night were a normal one, if the stars were out, if the lights of the city still burned brightly. If the city hadn't become a war zone several months previously.

_Don't panic._

She sat up from the soft mattress beneath her, placed her feet on the plush silver carpet. Her dark hair spilled down her shoulders, and that perturbed her. She'd definitely had it pulled up in a ponytail before, as she always did when she was on a hunt or expected to run into daemons. Her boots and coat were off, but she spotted them nearby, her coat draped over a high-backed chair, boots resting on the floor. A quick survey of herself found that her weapons were gone, too, but her disquiet subsided when she stood and crossed to a long, obsidian vanity, finding her sword, bow, and quiver leaned up against it. On the surface of the wood were her daggers, all seven of them lined up prettily in a row.

An image flooded her mind, one of Ardyn examining each of the blades one by one as he held them up to the light of the wall sconces. Each edge glinted with cruel intent before he set it on the vanity and moved to inspect another, but not before he smiled at her sleeping form, and somehow that action was crueler. 

As quickly as the image had come, it faded, leaving Melody standing alone in the quiet room, bathed in its canary yellow light. Her heart stampeded in her chest. That image had been too vivid to have come only from her imagination. Was it a memory? Had she woken up earlier and watched him before slipping off into unconsciousness again? Had he—

Melody slammed that mental door shut and turned the lock fast. Going down the rabbit hole of unanswerable questions and trying to peel fact from fiction would throw her into a frenzy faster than anything else. She needed to stay calm and figure this out. Treat it just like a hunt—one where she’d gotten more than she bargained for.

Ardyn had attacked her. He had brought her to this room, had made her comfortable, had taken her weapons, but then just left them for her to find like this.

Why?

Shaken by the contradictions he’d presented her with, she examined the room again and noted how high up she was.

This had to be the Citadel, and judging by its appearance, she was in a room intended for guests of the royal family.

A royal family which he claimed to be a part of. 

_Why, I’m your king. Ardyn Lucis Caelum._

That didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.

Why had miasma seethed from him if he was human? And why, _why_ had he attacked her but not killed her?

Still a possibility.

_Don't. Panic._ She forced herself to take a deep breath, held it, then at last expelled it. She repeated the exercise a few more times until she stopped feeling like something terrible was trying to claw up her throat. 

Despite the familiar weight of her weapons missing, her body had never felt heavier, and she was still drained from attempting holy magic. Melody winced as she touched her face where Ardyn had struck her, and a glance at the vanity mirror showed a purple bruise forming beneath her cheekbone. Nothing was broken, though, nothing but veins and those would soon heal. 

She was alive, and though another keen-eyed sweep of the room proved that her satchel of curatives was missing, she still had her weapons. Ardyn was either arrogant or stupid, and she could work with either.

Melody brought her wrist up to check the time.

Only to find that her watch wasn't there. 

_No._

Melody darted back to the bed, hands patting the comforter, ripping it off, scouring the sheets.

Empty.

_Nonono._

She moved to the vanity, examined every square inch of it before she started yanking out drawers—all empty—trying to find her watch.

All in vain.

"Son of a _bitch_!" snapped Melody, flinging her coat back on the chair after searching through every single pocket. Her mantra of “don’t panic” was abandoned in some deep, dark place within her, too far away to hear.

"Come now, let's not drag dear old mum into this."

Melody spun around—only to find Ardyn at the room's entrance, a black, carved door closed behind him. She hadn't heard it open or shut.

"Give it back," she said, starting forward. 

Ardyn smiled, tilting his head. "Give what back?"

He knew. She didn't know how, but the bastard _knew_ how much that watch meant to her.

Ardyn shook his head, hair moving freely since his hat was gone. "To be obsessed with time. How long it's been since I concerned myself with the seasons, the hours passing me by. If you stop to think for a moment, my dear, you'll realize I've done you a favor."

"I want it back," she demanded.

“Then I suppose you'll have to earn it, then, won't you?” He smirked, eyes glittering with something that made her stomach roil. “Not the way I expected this conversation to go, I admit, but I _have_ been looking forward to seeing just how far you're willing to—”

Without warning, Melody threw a dagger at him, snatching another from the vanity as she darted forward. The first sank through his coat, into his shoulder, and he staggered back. The second she raised, plunging it towards his heart.

A ripple of miasma blasted her off her feet. She flew back and collided with the edge of the mattress and bed frame, yelping in pain as the latter bit into her spine. 

Then a hand was around her throat and she couldn't breathe. 

“Oh, how I hoped you wouldn’t be so easily subdued! Well done, my dear.” 

As if her weight was nothing, Ardyn dragged her up by the neck until she was lying diagonally upon the mattress, his lower body pinning her legs, her breaths coming shallow—when they came at all. 

It took her a moment to realize she still had her dagger in her hand.

Melody brought it up with a jerking thrust, felt the knife cut straight through fabric, flesh, and tendon, finding its mark. She waited for the feel of hot, sticky blood to gush on her hand, for his body to seize then release.

But no blood came, and no life left him.

Instead, Ardyn let out a long, breathy moan by her ear, the sound far more erotic than pained. His hand dropped from her throat. 

Only to pin down her free hand, fingers interwoven with hers, palm to palm, in a mockery of intimacy.

"Well, now, what’s this? I’m still alive? Oh, how tragic. A valiant effort, but those aren’t the ones worthy of reward, are they?” He raised his head up from her neck, and Melody's eyes widened in horror at what she saw.

The visage of a human had peeled itself away, leaving behind something foul, something so unquestionably daemonic Melody felt herself beginning to shake. Veins splintered like scars of black lightning upon his face, his neck, miasma dripping from the corner of his mouth, from his eyes. They had been amber before, but now they were a sick, unnatural yellow trapped in rotting, obsidian scleras. She tried to call forth her magic, but there was nothing there, nothing left, not enough time to recharge.

"Poor Gladio,” the thing—the daemon—simpered to her. “The brute was trying to warn you, you know. Oh, if _only_ you hadn’t been too stubborn to see it.” His voice was low and still human, dripping with false remorse. “He knew. They _all_ knew exactly what you would find if you crossed into Insomnia. They knew that _I_ was waiting here. Yet they didn't trust you enough to tell you. My, with friends like these..." 

“How do you know all that?” It came out as a fearful whisper. Melody jerked the dagger, twisting it. Ardyn didn’t let out so much as a grunt. Merely kept smiling that same, inhuman, condescending smile. “Why aren’t you dead?”

“Because the pleasure of dying has been barred from me.” 

_Bullshit._ Melody pressed herself back into the mattress, so his chin couldn’t scrape against her cheek with its stubble and the taint dripping slowly down it did not touch her. “What do you _want_?”

“What do I want?” Ardyn laughed and rose, fingers brushing her palm before retreating and turning his back on her.

Melody watched him with round eyes, blindsided. Though her body shook, she managed to prop herself up on her elbows. If she tried to stand, would her legs cooperate? 

“If you want answers, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to follow me,” Ardyn continued in a remorseless tone. “I’m quite adept at playing the charming host.”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with you.”

“No?” Ardyn turned back, and Melody flinched. But his face was normal, that daemonic side of his submerged again. Her daggers still pierced his shoulder, his heart, and he didn’t seem to even notice. “Then I’ll be sure to give dear Benjamin Weyfamaris your regrets.”

“Wait— _what?_ ”

“A little rat scurries around my kingdom without my blessing, and you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Then he was gone. The door never opened or shut.

“Shit! Ben, _shit!_ ”

Melody scrambled up, jerked on her boots, and gathered her remaining weapons with hasty, shaking hands. She burst through the door, almost shocked to find that it wasn’t locked, and ran.

Where had he gone, and where were those elevators?

She ran so fast, her mind and body in panic mode, that she didn’t have time to appreciate the Citadel’s grandeur, its interior still mostly preserves despite the Niflheim attack. The polished marble floor that reflected every footfall clearly. The countless curved archways along every hall. The breathtaking gold filigree on the surface of the gray walls. The myriad windows and skylights that must have made the place feel more open and free in the light but which now gaped like maws of predators in the dark. Passing countless rooms with closed doors, Melody jumped over a fallen column and its rubble. The elevators stood sigil at the end of the hall, and like her dreams, one was still operable.

And she knew where it would take her.

The throne room looked as it had in her dreams. Dark, foreboding, dreary with emptiness. She didn’t even jump when Ardyn appeared out of nowhere and took hold of her wrist. 

“There you are, my dear girl. Care to join us after all? I thought you might.”

She let him lead her forward, wondering how she could have allowed this man to so easily lure her here and trap her. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she was supposed to escape if he could be anywhere at any time, if he could not be killed. 

But then she saw Ben, strung up in chains above the throne, and her mind broke apart.

“All the pieces on the board at last,” Ardyn said. He dropped her wrist, turned toward her, and smiled. “Let the games begin. I think we’ll start with… _you_.”

Ardyn’s eyes never left her horrified expression, not even when he snapped his fingers and Ben fell from the ceiling, the chains still tangled around him as he struggled to get on his hands and knees. Ardyn waved his hand toward the sailor and gave her the slightest bow. “Heal him.”

Melody was in shock. She had to be because she certainly hadn’t heard him right. “What?” she rasped.

“ _Heal him_ ,” Ardyn enunciated for her. He moved to stand beside her, looking sidelong at Ben’s form, now convulsing on the ground. “If you can.”

Ben’s head snapped up, and Melody’s heart stopped beating for a moment. 

His eyes were gone, replaced with black holes of miasma, and his body was starting to change, to rot. He was becoming a daemon, and that made no sense because she hadn’t sensed a thing from him earlier, and she _would_ have if he’d been infected with the Scourge. But even if he’d been exposed to it since coming here, there’s no way the transformation into a daemon should be happening this quickly.

“By the gods,” she whispered. She spoke to Ardyn, but her attention never strayed from Ben. “What the hell did you do?” 

“Leave the gods behind where they belong, my dear. I thought of this all by myself.” She jumped when his hand landed on the small of her back, pushing her forward. “Hurry now, before the big, bad daemon gets us!”

“You bas—”

Ben lurched forward. He was on his knees now, a terrible screech ripping from his throat. She could just barely make out the words— _kill me_ —before they were garbled beyond comprehension. At the sound, every hair on Melody’s arms rose.

_Don’t panic._

She reached for the magic, hoping it would make a late arrival. She could feel a glimmer of it, deep down, borne of desperation and fear, but it was weak, far too weak.

_Don’t panic._

Ben, or the thing that was now inhabiting Ben’s body, was thrashing at the chains, attempting to knock them off. But there were so many, and they were heavy. He’d be preoccupied for a while, at least.

“Tick, tock, tick, tock,” Ardyn called out, voice echoing merrily off the walls. 

_Don’t panic._

It was far too late for that. 


	5. In the Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone following this story--and the biggest thanks to [themusicofmysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusicofmysoul/pseuds/themusicofmysoul) for being the best beta reader and enabler.
> 
> Let's get to it!

_Heal him._  

Melody was certain that one basic command was wrapping itself around her neck like a noose. So simple, so easy. All she needed to do was reach out to Ben and cast out the Scourge from his body. 

The daemon— _Ben_ —in the chains thrashed. It hadn’t noticed her slowly nearing yet.

But it would soon. And there was still not even the slightest tingle of magic burning at her fingertips.

It should have been simple. For Lunafreya, it would have been. But Melody’s healing gift was weak, and as of this moment, nothing else was more difficult than saving an innocent man that she’d personally dragged straight to hell.

_He’s innocent, true, but still a stranger. I owe him nothing. It’s easier to escape with just yourself._

The thought came to her like a breath, effortless and without censure. Melody paused, revolted and dismayed at herself. When had she become like this? So ruthless and hard-hearted? She _had_ to heal Ben now because he deserved it. Because she still had some decency. Her dreams had not led her to Ardyn because they were secretly alike, one darkness calling to another. She was better than her thoughts, than him.  

Stepping lightly, Melody managed to skirt around Ben and lay a hand on his back, another at his neck. His jugular vein was stiff, as if the miasma was hardening inside him as it hollowed out his humanity. The thing jerked and snarled, and a hand with broken, blackened nails clawed at her wrist. The other worked the chains more frantically. It wouldn’t be long now until he was free, until he turned and attacked her, infecting her with the Scourge, too, if he didn’t kill her first.

In spite of every instinct telling her not to, Melody closed her eyes and tried to think healing thoughts. Bruises fading away. Skin knitting back together. Lungs filling with air instead of damp. Vitality and strength surging through renewed limbs. Hands glowing white as they healed everything that was wrong. 

Somewhere in front of her, Ardyn sighed loud enough to echo, the sound a chorus of wraith moans in the dark. “ _Unbelievable._ Is there truly nothing left of my world in this unrecognizable farce? They don’t even make healers like they used to.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, concentration broken. Miasma leaked down her hand at Ben’s neck. She squinted her eyes open, heart pounding to find that a pair of dark, dripping horns were starting to sprout from the top of his bald head.

“Back then, all it would take is an instant,” Ardyn mused, his tone whimsical as he spoke more to himself than to her. But she heard every word clearly. “Someone in dear Ben’s place would have been child’s play, yet here he is, suffering while his healer”—he broke off with a laugh—“struggles to _heal_.”

“Even Lunafreya would’ve struggled with _this_ ,” she bit out. 

“I wasn’t speaking of Lunafreya,” he replied silkily.

Melody clenched her eyes shut and delved deeper, imagining. Miasma drawing away from the body, turning into mist. Veins changing from black to blue. Rot replaced with rebirth. New, unbroken skin in place of those horns, and those gruesome eyes clearing, becoming Ben’s natural seafaring blue. _And when he speaks again, it’ll be in his normal, rough, salty scratch, not the inhuman shrieks of a daemon._

“You know what your problem is, don’t you?” Melody jumped as Ardyn’s hands cradled her by the shoulders, his mouth by her ear. “Healers are selfless by nature, but _you_? You are so _deliciously_ selfish. You care more for your secrets than you do their lives.”

“That’s not true!” She drew her hand from Ben’s neck and shoved Ardyn back. He stumbled away, laughing darkly, with flecks of miasma dripping down the lapels of his coat. “I pick my battles. If I tried to save everyone, then I’d save no one.” 

“Oh yes, I’m sure all those people you passed by would agree with you. That poor old woman by the sea, the little boy roaming the Lucian outlands. The hunter crawling blind in the dark—around your age, wasn’t he?” Ardyn shook his head, face heavy with mournfulness. “Already lost causes, much like your Benjamin here.”

Ardyn looked and sounded perfectly regretful, perfectly understanding. Save for the glint of amusement in his amber eyes. So many games he was playing. Melody wasn’t sure which one she should try to win, or even if she _could_ win. She was shaken that he knew about those nameless people she’d chosen not to help, each of them beyond her skills, now ghosts she’d been trying to forget. How had he come to know her failures? Just how much about her did he know? 

“No, he isn’t,” she replied, and then she drew the knife she’d reclaimed from Ardyn’s chest and swiftly cut open the back of her hand. Not the palm or the wrist. Cutting those areas made it difficult to wield things, could take too long to heal, and be life-threatening if done incorrectly. What she was doing was dangerous enough, and all she needed was a little blood.

The wound stung, blood welling up quickly from the cut. Melody clenched her fist, so the pressure would force the blood out to slide down her hand more easily. Before she could lose a drop of it to the ground, she raised her fist over Ben’s mouth.

The first few drops missed, hitting his face and hair as he thrashed and snapped his jaws, the smell of blood sending him into a frenzy. Once he realized where it was coming from, he stilled and opened his mouth wide, a macabre parody of a child catching raindrops on his tongue. 

After he swallowed five or six drops, Melody felt it. Felt _him_.

Not Ben, but Ardyn. The Scourge. Its source. The separate energies that made up photosynthetic organisms and the human they fed on, intent to take over—and it had come from _him_. Melody felt the magic in her blood react to the organisms’ presence, awakening at last. Separately, she sensed Ben’s despair and disgust—and anger and sorrow. She sensed an acute willingness to die.

Melody clenched her dagger as Ben grabbed her with a clawed, festering hand, bringing her bloody wound to his mouth.

The action was enough for her magic to flare at last, to protect her blood from being infected with the miasma. Melody latched onto the warmth and forced it to flow out. Her hands burst with white, but that wasn’t where the healing magic was focused. 

If she couldn’t heal Ben from the outside, then she would do so from within. 

Ben’s back arched, and he threw his head back with a shriek. His skin seemed to burn white-hot from the inside, and miasma wafted from his body in bursts of mist, as if the blackness itself was fleeing from him. The horns, the claws, the rotting skin, everything daemonic was burned away until only the human in tattered clothes was left, yelling out in a ravaged throat what could only be pain.

Melody snatched her hands away. Ben slumped to the floor, face-first and unconscious but no longer screaming. As soon as she’d released him, the connection between them was broken, and her magic followed its host. She peered at him to make sure he was breathing, and he was, but Melody didn’t feel like congratulating herself, didn’t feel thankful that she hadn’t had to gut him to end his misery. She felt like crying.

“What a display!” Ardyn clapped his delight, the sharp sounds echoing hollowly throughout the room. “The novice healer, victorious after all! And quite the miracle you performed, my dear. You should be proud.”

“I did what you asked. Now let him go.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” Ardyn paced around Ben’s body, throwing her a condescendingly patient look over his fallen form. “I don’t recall making any such promises.”

Melody fought not to reveal the desperation she was drowning in. “You said this was a game. I won. Winners get something for their victories.” 

“But alas you have only won the round. The long game is still at hand. Oh?” Ardyn smirked at her dazed expression. “Did you think I would let you go so easily? Perish the thought.” He raised his hand to his mouth and called in a sing-song, “Guards, oh, guards!”

Two MTs shuffled into the throne room, their steps perfectly in sync and unnaturally stiff. They looked to Ardyn with their unblinking, eerily-glowing red eyes. Ardyn snapped his fingers and pointed down at Ben.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Ardyn said as Melody took an aggressive step forward to take them out. Her hand was suddenly empty, and a quick inventory check revealed the rest of her weapons were gone as well. Vanished into thin air. “You’ll get those back when I know you can behave yourself around my soldiers.”

“What are you doing?” Melody stared after the MTs helplessly as they dragged Ben away. “Where are they taking him?”

“Somewhere safe until our next little game.” Ardyn closed the distance between them, holding her fast with his hand gripping her chin. “Is the anticipation killing you as much as it’s killing me?”

“I thought you couldn’t die.”

“So you _are_ following along. Good, very good.” He released her and gestured her along with a crook of his finger. “Now keep following.”

_What now?_ Melody didn’t think she could take much more of this, as evident by the strain in her voice as she asked, “Where?” Nevertheless, she did follow as Ardyn led her away from the throne room. 

“As you so assiduously pointed out, you did technically win my first gambit against you. It’s time for you to claim your own glorious reward.”

“Which is?”  

“Dinner, with me.” She caught a flash of teeth as he threw over his shoulder, “Aren’t you lucky?”

* * *

For just two people, the spread of food was impressive. Plump strawberries, grapes, and melons immediately drew the eye, the fruits having become increasingly rare in the wild without sunlight to grow them. Holly had mentioned starting a greenhouse powered by artificial light to preserve the plants they needed to live, and Melody had even found her seeds to get started. Now, she supposed, she was unlikely to see the literal fruits of her labor.

Melody cut off the thought before it could depress her, following the line of the table with a wary gaze. Thickly-sliced cuts of beef and savory breads wafted to her nose, making her realize how hungry she was, and her mouth watered at the sight of grilled carrots, squash, and zucchini beautifully arranged on a massive serving dish.

She was starving, but at the same time, her stomach cramped in protest. She knew the reason why. It was the man sitting to her left at the head of the table, holding court and watching her far too closely over a glass of red wine. Melody forced herself to fill her plate before he could prompt her to do so but proceeded to pick at it, eating a bite or two every so often. She hated having strangers watch her eat, but for some reason Ardyn was worse even though he wasn’t exactly a stranger.

The dining room they were in was an intimate one, intended for small, private dinners among family than hosting foreign dignitaries or a surplus of guests. Wall lamps burned low, casting the gray room in a warm, orange light while the night pressed against the windows behind her. There were no MTs guarding the room, and no one else joined them. Melody wondered what the show was for because it certainly wasn’t for her.

She wondered, too, at the appreciative drink Ardyn took of his wine, of his own plate that had been covered in food but was now mostly empty. He couldn’t die, but he needed food? What about sleep? 

Ardyn was in the middle of discussing the room’s previous décor and the changes he’d made when she asked, “Will you die if you don’t eat?”

“No.” His voice was light with arrogance. He smiled, a look of surety that said _, I know what you’re trying to do._ “Nor will I starve.”

“You don’t feel hunger?” 

“I don’t feel a great many things.” 

“So why bother?” She gestured to the table and the room at large. “With all this?”

His eyes were half-lidded as he purred, “Pleasure.” As if it explained everything.

Melody ignored the low drag of his voice, how it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “But if you don’t feel—”

“Pleasure, my dear, isn’t something you feel. It’s something you take.” He leaned upon the arm rest, chin propped casually on a hand, and looked her up and down. The amber in his gaze seemed to burn, but he swirled the wineglass in his free hand nonchalantly. "I'm certain you know what I'm talking about."

She smiled, or thought she did. Her mouth made the familiar pull, but there was no emotion behind it. “Not really.” Giving up on her appetite returning, she set down her fork and pushed the plate away. “So. What now, Ardyn Lucis Caelum, or whoever you’re supposed to be? Gonna call in the MTs to drag me away, too?”

“Please,” Ardyn said, dragging out the word and leaning back in his chair. “Call me ‘Your Majesty.’ It’s only fitting. You’re my dear, sweet subject, after all.”

Melody lifted her chin, proud. Defiant. “I’m from Accordo, and Accordo has no king.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrow arched, but still no anger appeared on his face. No frustration. Melody wasn’t sure why, but the lack of negative emotion bothered her. “I must have missed these past thirty years where Niflheim has gripped Accordo in its fist.”

“No true Accordon has ever acknowledged Aldercapt as their sovereign. Now he’s dead, along with his entire high command.”

“All save for the Chancellor,” Ardyn commented lightly.

“The Chancellor is—”

“Right here.”

Melody stalled. Ardyn raised his glass to her, his growing smirk warped through the glass. Her next words were accusing yet cautious. “The Chancellor’s name was Izunia.”

“Mm, yes. I’ve answered to that for the past few decades. Ardyn Izunia, the name more fitting than you know. Oh, my dear girl, did you not watch the news? Cameramen were crawling all over this place when the treaty was being”—he laughed to himself—“negotiated.”

No, she hadn’t watched it, even though the event had been the top story even out toward her waters. Melody couldn’t recall now what she’d been doing that day, and whatever it was had been swiftly overshadowed by news of Insomnia’s fall and Lunafreya’s alleged death, which she’d learned about only after arriving home.

But… She did remember hearing a brief radio broadcast. The news anchors had remarked on the unusual sight of seeing the Emperor in the flesh, no longer hidden behind the might of his kingdom. The man walking beside him, Chancellor Izunia, had been described briefly, too, another rare sight. What had they said?

_Now here’s something you don’t see every day, folks. A Nif dressed in true colors, all black instead of white. Have you ever seen such a thing, Ymir?_

_No, Lorin, but Chancellor Izunia’s unusual fashion sense isn’t the only thing that’s been making a splash as of late. You know, they say the Magitek troopers and tech were all his influence, the reason behind Niflheim’s military success being largely attributed to him and Imperial Research Chief Verstael Besithia._

That’s all she recalled from the broadcast and all she had to go by. Just a brief mention and Ardyn’s own word. Unacceptable.

Before she could verbally deny it, Ardyn pulled from his coat and tossed what looked like a newspaper on the table. “As enjoyable as it is to watch you struggle to grasp reality…”

She took her eyes off him to read the headline: “Lucis, Niflheim to Discuss Peace Treaty,” only to land on the black-and-white photo in the middle of the article’s text. The shot was of Aldercapt strolling toward the Citadel, surrounded by armed guards, and at his side was, unmistakably, Ardyn. Same long coat, same hat, turned toward the camera, in mid-conversation with Aldercapt.

_He could still be lying,_ her mind railed. _This could be a trick. It’s not real._

But something deep down in her gut clenched, and she knew then that some part of her had recognized the truth and accepted it.

So he was Niflheim’s chancellor. Fitting. He was as mad and inhuman as the rest of them. But so what? That didn’t make him a Lucian king any more than she could claim an Oracle bloodline. 

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia,” Melody enunciated every word, getting a feel for their truth. “I don’t know how you did it, but eliminating the Emperor, burning through Niflheim’s high command, assuming control of the military. That’s quite a coup. Was the false treaty with Lucis your idea as well?”

“I like to think of it as more of a collaborative effort.” 

“Busy boy. Sure it was.” She braced her arms on the table and leaned towards him, her words entreating. “But none of this has anything to do with me. So why not let me go? I’ll take Ben, and neither of us will ever—” 

Ardyn sighed, lowering his glass to the table. “Oh, how quickly she moves towards deflection and deceit! Did you really believe that would work, my dear? A few words of shameless flattery, and I’d be in the palm of your hand like all your little hunters?”

“What I thought would work was speaking to you like a creature of reason.” Melody pushed back into her chair and crossed her arms. “But I forgot: you’re an evil, insane daemon.”

A blur of purple light and miasma-thick shadow rushed toward her. Suddenly, she was standing, the chair and table gone, the dining room replaced with the bedroom she had woken up in, the same as she’d left it with the exception that her weapons were missing. But none of that mattered, because Ardyn was holding her up with a hand around her throat, not squeezing, her feet still touching the ground, but Melody knew if she tried to pull away, all that might change. So she froze as Ardyn said softly, “I’m also your generous host.” His thumb swept across her jumping pulse. “How generous depends on you. And me.” He smirked. “But mostly on you.”

Her mind couldn’t catch up with what that light had been or how she’d gotten here, not just with his hands on her, but in this room, when it was several floors below the dining room. How had he gotten them both here, with what magic, and why was he still not angry, even at being insulted?

The words that came out instead were “Why are you doing this?”

Ardyn’s eyes lit up, as if delighted by the question. “Did you know the gods secretly amuse themselves with mortal affairs? Doomed lovers, exiled princes, a group of young heroes who arrive _just_ in time to slay the great evil threatening all they hold dear. They adore these tales, will sometimes intervene enough so the story ends the way _they_ want them to. The gods are selfish creatures, after all.”

Melody felt his eyes linger upon the bruise on her cheek, and Ardyn’s smile appeared crueler for it. His hand falling away, the Niflheim Chancellor strolled toward the door. “Why, you ask me? Why you, why here? Why _me_?” He stopped, turning just enough for her to see his face, and the showman was back, all wistful storytelling and animated anticipation. “Because those tales are currently on hiatus, and, unfortunately for you, my dear, I find myself miserably bored, yearning for them to begin again.”


End file.
